


Non-being

by Mirkat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Azkaban, Dementors, Gen, Hogwarts, Original Character(s), Post-War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 16:07:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5011114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirkat/pseuds/Mirkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war has been over for more than a decade and the dementors are back in Azkaban, one of them a bit different from the rest. This story follows a half-human, half-dementor named Zaka as ze discovers that ze has the powers of a wizard and attempts to go to Hogwarts despite the still rampant prejudice and discrimination towards magical creatures. Not that any of the other students necessarily have to know that ze isn't fully human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Non-being

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction, my first serious attempt at writing fiction in English and my first writing project in years - and even though I'm going to go have a minor mental breakdown after I press "publish" I would appreciate all and any feedback. Since dementors have no concept of gender, I've decided to use the gender-neutral pronoun "ze/zir" about the dementors. It can take a while to get used to, but I hope that you will give my story a chance anyways. It's pronounced "zee/zere."

The Fortress of Azkaban, hidden on a big, rocky island protruding from the North Sea, was a world of its own – and it was the only world Zaka had ever known. Ze contemplated that fact during an icy January morning as ze sat on the edge of a jagged cliff, zir feet dangling in the air. Ze listened to the foaming waves as they clashed against the walls of stone beneath zir. The sound was deafening but familiar. It had, like many of Azkaban's peculiarities, been a constant in zir life, and when ze was sitting so close to the crashing waves that the spray stung zir face and clung to zir dark cloak, it was the only thing ze could hear. The fortress itself towered behind zir, protected by a big square of thick stone walls, cornered by tall towers. It stood dark against the bright blue sky; a tall, windowless, triangular edifice, casting deep shadows across the island.

If ze could see more than blurry patches of light and color, ze would have noticed the black dot in the horizon, slowly moving towards the island as ze sat there, dizzy from the bright sunlight. Instead, ze stared at the ocean. Ze had no words for the dark blue hue of the blurry waves beneath zir or the light blue color of the sky since everybody else who spoke zir language was blind, but this unusual splash of color was the reason why ze was sitting outside in the bright morning light.

As the boat approached the island, ze sensed the life inside it: two humans and one dementor. That meant the humans weren't prisoners, and Zaka was both excited and disappointed. Ze knew ze wouldn't get to feed on the unscathed Anavi of these human beings, already so much more tantalizing than that of those held captive in Azkaban prison, if they were simply visitors. But ze could already taste it, and even though the guards would scold zir for being unprofessional, ze took deeper breaths as the boat approached the coast. Zaka closed zir eyes as ze felt the warm lightness of Anavi, the essence of human life, spread through zir body, making zir thoughts clearer, zir senses sharper and zir breathing easier. Visitors were a rare sight in Azkaban, though, and that made them interesting. She could feel the other dementors stir inside the fortress as the boat moved into zir vision; a blurry, dark dot among the hues of blue.

The boat stopped at the little harbor carved into the island’s jagged walls of stone, and its passengers went ashore. Zaka could sense every shiver of emotion going through the two humans: most obviously fear, determination, and a growing despair. Ze was so caught up in the rush of being so close to pure, undamaged Anavi that the visitors were approaching the front gate, escorted by the dementor who'd arrived with them, before ze got hold of zirself and got up to follow them. Ze had no idea how the dementor escorting the visitors managed to float just a couple meters in front of them without claiming their Anavi, without breathing in and absorbing every trace of it.

Zaka had edged much closer to the human visitors than ze had planned as ze was following them towards the front gate. There was one Ehri and one Ahla. Ahla was the dementors’ ancient word for humans whose Anavi was tarred by tragedy and trauma, leaving them vulnerable to the power of their kind. Ehri, on the other hand, referred to humans who had led mostly happy, content lives, which made their Anavi so much more powerful and invigorating than that of an Ahla. The majority of human beings were neither, but most of the prisoners in Azkaban were Ahla, having scarred their Anavi with a life of darkness and crime. The Ehri had been there before, Zaka vaguely recognized his Anavi, but ze was sure the Ahla hadn't visited Azkaban in the eleven years ze had existed. 

The century old system of heavy iron chains tightened around wheels which creaked loudly as the front gate slowly opened, admitting Zaka and those ze followed into the yard of Azkaban Fortress. The thick stone walls surrounding them cast long shadows, but somewhere in the big yard, bright sunlight reflected off the cobbled stones. The hidden system of chains and wheels creaked again, closing the tall, black, iron gate behind them with a loud wham.

The visitors stopped as they entered the yard, jumping slightly as the front gate slammed closed, seemingly petrified by the sight of Azkaban Fortress rising from the ground in front of them. The triangular Fortress, built of jet black squares of stone, towered 400 meters tall above them, ensuring that the space between the front gate and the prison was dark and moist as it was squeezed under the heavy shadow of the great Fortress.

The human visitors looked very small as they stood in front of the tall gate, studying the enormous fortress towering above them with pale faces and wide eyes. Hidden in the dense shadows, a crowd of dementors floated, whispers in their ancient, husky language filling the cold, damp air. Fear flowed off the visitors, as tangible to the dementors as the jet black stones of the tower.  Zaka knew they must be gripping their wands, the tools used by humans to control and direct magic. Ze had witnessed a human performing magic only a couple times before, and ze hoped to experience it again. The dementors were all taking much deeper breaths than necessary as they discussed the appearance of the two unexpected visitors, hungrily breathing in the warm, light essence of so much unscathed Anavi. The visitors had gone sickly pale, sweat beading on their foreheads as they trembled slightly, their breathing rapid and shallow as they held on to the wands hidden in their robes so tightly that their knuckles turned white. 

Then the Ehri clenched his jaw tightly, took a deep breath, straightened up and took a couple steps forward, determination mingling with fear as the dementors continued to raspingly breathe in his presence. He took a couple steps forward, letting the dementor who'd arrived with him and the Ahla lead the way into the enormous Fortress. Zaka heard how the Ahla stumbled while quickly striding across the yard on shaky legs, staying as close to the Ehri as possible. The heavy stone door leading into the bottom of the tower opened slowly, making dust cloud the air as the stuffy, moldy air of the rarely used passage mixed with the icy air of the bright winter day.

Both visitors hesitated before entering the passage. Their eyes, which had almost acclimated to the heavy shadows, were now met with pitch-black darkness. The Ahla gulped as they reluctantly stepped into the darkness, even as the dementor lit an old lantern, providing a weak, flickering flame which made the shadows dance and the loose stones on the ground right beneath them visible.

Zaka, who had stayed anonymous among the crowd of dementors, discreetly slipped in behind the group, following the two men being led through the dark, intricate passages of Azkaban as their steps echoed against the stones. Ze made sure to stay as far away from them as possible while still following their steps, having heard of humans uncanny ability to see despite not sensing.

The dementor leading them was floating right above the ground, completely silent as ze held the lantern steadily in zir right hand, lighting the passage less than a meter in each direction. The visitors, who had earlier been keeping their distance from their guide, were now scrambling along right behind zir.

This was one of the areas where Zaka stood out from the other dementors. Ze couldn't float or fly, and had to silently tip toe behind them, bare feet on the rough, cold stone floor. Unlike the other dementors, zir movements weren't completely silent, and despite zir attempts at being quiet, a growing unease was flowing from the human visitors. The pair kept turning around and looking over their shoulders, repeatedly having to remind themselves that they were completely blind in the darkness. Several times, Zaka had to stop in the middle of a movement and stand completely still, holding zir breath as the visitors listened for suspicious sounds.

The passage quickly turned into a complex pattern of staircases, some roughly carved out of the cliff forming the island beneath them, and some built of differently sized blocks of stone; some broad and some thin, some flat and some steep, some of them rough and some of them smooth. There were also ancient, creaky, wooden staircases, ladders, slopes, and stairs so steep they were almost vertical – and after ten minutes of walking upwards through Azkaban, the visitors had lost all sense of direction.

The dementors themselves, always flying above the ground, never really contemplated how hard walking through Azkaban was, how many things there were to stumble over and carefully climb – save for Zaka. Ze didn't have anything to compare Azkaban to, but ze knew that learning how to navigate the enormous Fortress without getting lost, and more importantly, without hurting herself on sharp edges and loose stones, had been a long and grievous process which had taken the majority of zir short life. Ze still made mistakes, and zir feet were covered in scars and cuts, sometimes hurting so much ze had to stay inside zir chamber for days.

This time ze didn't make mistakes. Ze listened carefully to the sounds the dementor leading the visitors repeatedly emitted alongside rattling breaths, too low for human ears, and how they echoed against the walls, floors, objects and steps surrounding them. Ze knew that the dementor, known as Raka, was aware of zir presence, thanks to the same senses that allowed Zaka to follow the group through the pitch black of the prison. Yet the older dementor did not acknowledge zir presence in any way, probably not wanting to deal with a too-curious young dementor in front of the visitors.

Zaka paused on the spot, one foot still in the air, as the Ahla tripped over another loose stone, the Ehri having to grip his arm as they both muttered in English, their low voices loud in the hall they were passing through. Zaka wasn't fluent in English, but a couple of the older dementors understood it well, even as they couldn't form the words having mouths without teeth and tongue. They were often willing to quietly explain what the prisoners were screaming in their sleep, and Zaka, who had both teeth and tongue, would repeat the words and sentences to zirself over and over, always trying to recall their different meanings. As the visitors conversed in English, ze was able to pick out that it was something about a meeting and the potential release of a long-term prisoner. Zaka was curious to know who they were talking about, knowing all the long-term prisoners by name, but ze could feel the disapproval flowing from Raka as the older dementor noticed that Zaka was eavesdropping on the visitors’ personal conversation. This didn't make Zaka turn around, but ze stifled the urge to move closer in an attempt to catch more of the foreign words.

Raka and the visitors, with Zaka following close behind them, finally reached one of the corridors with high-security cells on each side, hidden behind heavy iron doors bolted with a variety of locks. The moans and screams of the prisoners resonated through the walls, making pangs of fear, pity and distress pulsate almost rhythmically from the visitors as they walked along the rows of locked doors, stopping at the 17th door on the left. Mr. Coratius' cell, Zaka remembered, as ze watched Raka routinely unlock the variety of locks with a bundle of rusty keys, clinking against each other as ze moved them around with zir long, scabby fingers. The visitors were waiting in anxious anticipation.

As the door opened, only Raka and the Ahla entered the room, slamming the door behind them. Zaka tried to move closer to the door without being noticed by the Ehri, who was still waiting outside, looking around anxiously as he lit the tip of his wand, spreading a soft white light through the dark corridor.

Zaka noticed too late that ze had been far too close to the Ehri as he cast the charm, and ze froze on the spot, ear against the wall, halfway caught in the circle of light. Then ze jumped back into the shadows, and the Ehri, who had until then been watching zir without moving a muscle, jerked, wand raised and pointed towards zir. Zaka knew ze was invisible among the deep shadows, but ze didn't dare move. The Ehri forced himself to relax, the waves of alert fear which had been flowing from him, pulsating with every erratic heartbeat, decreased slightly. 

“If I didn't know better, I would've thought you were eavesdropping,” he said, letting out a weak, shaky laugh.

Zaka didn't know the word eavesdropping.

“I don't know if I did it,” ze said, repeating the words often said by a prisoner as he cried in his sleep. Zir voice was raspy and almost unintelligible as ze forced zir mouth around the unfamiliar language. 

The Ehri almost dropped his wand as he jerked backwards.

“What are you?” he asked the darkness surrounding him, voice shrill with fear. “Dementors don't speak!”

“We do,” Zaka corrected, offended by his assumptions. “You just don't understand.”

The Ehri seemed to notice that he was trembling all over, making the circle of light quiver among the shadows. He quickly stopped the involuntary movement.

“You've never spoken before. None of you. I've been here several times in the last ten years,” the Ehri mumbled, almost succeeding in keeping his voice calm.

“Not your English.” Zaka corrected.

“Really?” the Ehri asked, curiosity now mingling with the fear flowing off him. “Say something, then.”

Zaka said the word equivalent to the English “something” in the ancient, raspy language of the dementors, spoken in the smallest change of pressure and connotation as ze took deep, rattling breaths, still trying to breathe in as much of the Ehri's Avani as possible without being overt about it.

“That's speaking? I always assumed that was just the way you breathed.” the Ehri exclaimed, curious enough to stay on the spot, attention directed towards the creature hiding in the shadows, even as cold seemed to be seeping through his skin, cutting into his bones.

“You also breathe while speaking.” Zaka pointed out. The Ehri almost chuckled. 

“You're rather small for a dementor, aren't you?” he asked.

Zaka didn't dignify that with an answer. At one meter and 80 centimeters, ze wasn't that much smaller than the young dementors. It was just that they, unlike zir, tended to float above the ground which added quite a bit to how tall one seemed.

“I didn't mean to offend you,” the Ehri said, voice almost soft with amusement. “Come on, step into the light, won't you?” 

Zaka did not want to.

The Ehri took a deep breath, shivering slightly as he took a couple steps towards zir, his wand now lighting up the outline of Zaka's hooded silhuette.

“Hey,” he said, sounding surprised. “I think I'm actually taller than you.”

Zaka quickly backed into the shadows.

“Are you like, a baby or something?” the Ehri asked. He staggered slightly as the air around him turned cold as ice, painfully cutting up his lungs as he gasped for air, black spots dancing in front of his eyes as he suddenly couldn't focus on the conversation, his whole attention being dragged back into his mind, reliving a memory he had spent years trying to forget...

“I'm eleven years old,” Zaka mumbled.

The Ehri forced his attention back to the present, back to his surreal conversation with a baby dementor who spoke better English than his mother.

“Eleven years old? So do ya like, breed out here?” he asked, voice only slightly troubled as he steadied himself against the wet stone wall, almost cutting his hand on the rough stone.

“What kind of question is that?” Zaka asked, genuinely wondering about the meaning of the question.

“Touché,” the Ehri mumbled. 

“Do you have a mom?” he asked after a short moment of strained silence.

“I have a colony,” Zaka said.

“Pretty curious,” the Ehri mumbled, more to himself than to Zaka, “how things work out here.”

That moment, the door to cell number 17 opened, and the Ahla, looking very pale, as well as the dementor named Raka reappeared.

The Ehri immediately turned his attention towards Raka.

“Hey!” he almost shouted. “Do you speak too? It's okay, the little one just spoke to me.”

Raka stopped in the middle of the corridor, as still as if ze was frozen to the spot, breath rattling, not willing to believe that young Zaka had actually _spoken_ to the visitor.

The Ahla's mouth had fallen open, his eyes so wide they looked like they were about to pop out of his face as he stared incredulously between Raka and the Ehri.

“What little one?” he asked, looking nauseous. 

Zaka, who was luckily still invisible among the shadows, thought that right then looked like a good time to leave. Ze ran down the corridor and turned left, zir feet echoing against the stone floor as the full attention of the two human visitors and Raka was focused on zir.

“Hey!” ze heard the Ehri shout, still staring into the darkness ze had disappeared into. “If the other ones don't speak, how come you do?”

The question echoed uncomfortably in Zaka's head as ze kept running, turning left and right and then left again as ze ran downwards, trying to reach the dungeons of the Azkaban Fortress, hoping to reach it before Raka had led the visitors back to the boat and gone back to find zir.

The thing was, nobody knew why Zaka was different, not even the other dementors. Truth be told, they didn't know exactly _how_ different ze was. They knew ze had teeth, tongue, hair and eyes, but they didn't know that ze sometimes spoke English words or that sometimes ze saw lights and colors that ze had no words for. They knew ze couldn't float or fly, but they didn't know how zir feet sometimes hurt for days after ze accidentally stepped on a sharp corner of stone.

Slightly out of breath and sick with worry, ze finally reached the dungeons. The heavy, damp darkness was calming against zir skin as ze took deep breaths, breathing in the smell of decay, dust and fungi. Ze quickly found zir usual corner and as ze sat down, feeling the moisture of the walls and floor soak through zir cloak, waiting for Raka to find zir, ze had no idea that the Ehri visitor would soon be back, looking for the small dementor who spoke to him.


End file.
